Behind Closed Doors
by Jessica Simpson-Bourget
Summary: Sam and Diane take their conflict into Sam's office, where it takes a decidedly different turn. Yes, this is rated M for a reason. Reviews are love.


Coach was prepping for happy hour. The bar was quiet save for a handful of patrons- the calm before the storm. Within a half hour, it would be jam-packed with world-weary workaday types seeking an all too brief escape before their journeys home. "Sam, we need another case of Molson."

Sam turned away from his heated discussion for a nanosecond. "Yeah, sure Coach, just give me a minute here to set our know-it-all barmaid straight. You know, Diane, you seem to forget that despite this thing we have goin' on here, I'm still the boss, and what I say goes."

"Ah yes, you're a regular Lee Iacocca. Your management skills are sine qua non, and this bar is a beacon within the community. Nay, a veritable bastion for gracious living and high culture." She gestured toward Norm, who was showing Cliff something he dug out of his ear.

"Yeah, well regardless, we're not doing a bi-monthly opera night, so you can tell your tenor pal to stick a sock in it. And why don't you do the same while you're at it?"

"I'll tell you what: How about neither of us sticks anything anywhere, if you gather my inference?"

Diane stormed across the bar toward the door, and Sam, suddenly realizing what she meant, panicked and hopped over the bar after her.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Now hold on a minute. Can't we talk about this like civilized adults?"

Carla rolled her eyes and moved toward the office, knowing this could take a while. "Coach, I'll get that case for you."

Sam did not turn to address her. "I'll get it, Carla—you're pregnant."

"Civilized adults? Civilized relative to what? A professional wrestling exhibition? The art of civilized discourse utterly eludes you, much as the curriculum at most junior high schools would."

"Much as your junior prom date, your fiancé and your career eluded you."

Diane was stricken, and untied her apron strings. Dropping the apron unceremoniously on the bar, she headed for Sam's office.

"That's it. I'm getting my purse and I don't want to see you the rest of the day. If I'm lucky, maybe longer."

Sam followed her, scrambling to keep his evening's entertainment. "Okay, but we're still on for tonight, right?" She slammed the office door behind her, and he quickly re-opened it and followed her in, slamming the door behind him. Diane wheeled around to face him, purse in hand.

"Sam, I'm telling you now, back off. I don't want us saying things we'll both regret."

"Back off, huh?" He stepped toward her, looking her up and down as he approached. "Is that what you really want?"

She took a step back, the glint in her blue eyes holding both a challenge and a promise. "Sam, I'm warning you, I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you get any closer."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that." He took two steps toward her, and she raised her arm as if to strike him. With an athlete's speed and grace, he pinned her arm behind her back, his body anchoring hers against the desk. She struggled momentarily, feeling his hot breath against her neck as he leaned in for the kill. "Mmmm…" she moaned, unable to resist the flood of sensations he created in her. "I like the sound of that even better," he murmured, sliding his hands over her firm ass and lifting her easily onto the desk.

Kissing her with equal parts abandon and need, he cleared the desk behind her with one sweep of his arm and began hiking up her skirt as she pulled his rugby shirt over his head. She was breathless at the sight of his tanned, lean, muscular torso and arms, and ran her fingers through the hair on his burnished chest in rapt appreciation. Shirt off, he set to work on the buttons of her high-necked blouse, panting in anticipation of the creamy white hot flesh that lay beneath.

Her pert breasts were ensconced in a white lace demi bra, which he quickly tugged down to reveal her small, rosy nipples. Her breasts beguiled him, and he lavished them with long kisses, running his tongue over her taut nipples before suckling at them ravenously, unable to sate himself, needing more and more of her.

He ran his hands over her impossibly long legs and slid her panties down over her ankles. That obstacle gone, he parted her pale thighs, sliding one hand up to her now wet, warm sex. Feeling his arousal growing, he struggled to release himself from the bind of his jeans while probing her core with anxious yet deliberate fingers.

He didn't want to break the connection for a second. He had her and he wasn't going to lose her to her overactive intellect. He'd keep her at the brink, which was where she was her very best indeed. In and out two long, thick fingers slid, and Diane groaned at his masterful touch. Was it his athletic hands or his vast experience that made him so good at this? Diane felt his now loosed erection straining at her entrance, and took it in hand, lowering her chin to make eye contact with Sam.

"Wait."

"Wait? What?" he cried, unable to believe she'd try to stop him now. He was so sure he had her.

"You heard me. Sam Malone, you may be in charge out there, but I'm off the clock. I'm the boss now, and what I say goes. On your knees, please." Complying, Sam dropped down and Diane grabbed the thick mane of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his mouth to her.

He inhaled her sweet scent, and licked his lips, aching to consume her. Diane lurched back as his warm lips captured her swollen clit. Moaning low and tugging gently, he swirled his tongue over and over the tight bundle of nerves that sent waves of pleasure coursing throughout her entire body. He cast his eyes upward, deriving a near electrical charge from her look of unbridled rapture and awe. The faux Tiffany lamp that dangled just behind her head gave her blonde hair the fitting aura of an angel, and he eagerly continued his reverie below.

He slid two fingers into her, curling them forward to hit that spot he'd helped her discover not so very long ago. She leaned back, basking in the luxurious ministrations of his mouth and digits, until she suddenly felt awash in a warmth that began at her center and radiated through every inch of her. His powerful arms crushed her against his mouth as her hips began to buck wildly in the throes of ecstasy.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, God… Oh, Sam… Unhhhhh…"

Sam could barely contain himself. Nothing was as sexy as Diane riding an orgasm. Nothing. He rose and bent over her to worship her breasts again, letting his rock hard arousal slide over her incredibly hot, wet entrance. He felt her delicate hand close over him, taking hold and sliding his engorged tip up and down her slit.

Leaning forward, she murmured in his ear, "That was some fine work you did just then, Sam… very well done, indeed. I think you've earned a bonus." With a knowing smile, she slid sinuously off the desk and knelt before him, his manhood mere inches from her face. He could feel her warm breath on it, as she moved her alabaster hand up and down his shaft, pausing to swirl a bead of pre-ejaculate over the head with her index finger. Eyeing it hungrily, she leaned forward and let her tongue follow the path of her finger.

"Mmmmm…" she murmured, "I like that. I like it a lot."

And then her mouth was on him. Cradling his heavy balls in one hand, she stroked him slowly and purposefully with the other, letting her tongue explore the head, and bobbing over his now throbbing erection. He inhaled sharply. Uptight as she seemed to the uninitiated, this woman had skills, and it never failed to shock the hell out of him. Was it something she learned from a book or was it experience?

"Jesus, Diane…"

She worked him in and out, massaging him just the way he liked, driving him crazy with each stroke until he felt he had to take back control. Tangling his fingers into her tousled blonde mane, he held her head still and began to drive himself into her mouth. The mouth that could provoke primal reactions from him in so many ways and on so many levels was now his. Or so he thought. Diane put one hand up to stop his motion, and he thought he'd lose his mind.

"What? What now?" he cried.

She slid back up onto the desk, bending one knee to prop one low heel of her sensible pumps up on the edge, her skirt pushed up to reveal her pink sex and blonde maidenhair at the ready to receive him.

"Now this," she purred, running a moist finger over herself, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Sam could wait no longer. Gripping her hips, he pulled her roughly to him, forcing himself deep inside of her.

"Ohhhhhhhhh. God, Diane."

He would never get used to how tight she was. Was it all the horseback riding? She groaned as he filled her completely and she stretched around him snugly. He needed more of her. He needed all of her, and grabbing her ass, he began to drive himself deeper and deeper within her. He needed to possess her utterly, just as she possessed him. He couldn't want another woman after her, not like this, and he needed her to feel the same.

She let her head drop back and smiled from satisfaction deep within her soul. No one could make her feel like this man did. It was as though they were designed and built for each other, despite the ultimately inconsequential social idiosyncrasies they ran up against in the outside world.

The desk rocked violently with each insistent thrust and Diane cried out before biting back a scream, lifting her head back up to face Sam, her eyes wild. The people on the other side of that door must never be a part of this private time. Sam's chiseled face glowed with perspiration, his eyes never leaving Diane's for a moment. He could never express what this woman did to him, but when they connected like this, he felt like he came close. Thrusting powerfully, he felt his balls begin to tighten.

Eyes sparkling despite heavy lids, she spoke, her heart in her hushed voice, "I love you, Sam Malone." Overwhelmed by emotion and sensation, he came hard, deep within her.

"Unnnhhhhhhh… Diane… Ohhhh God… Diane…"

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she pulled him down on top of her, cradling his face against her naked bosom. He inhaled deeply, savoring her fragrance and warmth.

"God, honey, I love you too," he breathed, "You'll never know how much."

Happy tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, and a grin of perfect joy spread across her face.

After a moment, they remembered where they were, and quickly straightened up to go face the outside world again. Hand in hand, grinning their secret grins, they started out the office door when Sam stopped short. "You go on, sweetheart. I just remembered Coach needs something."

With a lingering parting kiss, Sam turned back to go to the office storage closet when he heard a sudden clank of bottles. Carla staggered out from her position, stunned, breathless and sweaty. Dazed, she lumbered unsteadily toward the door, case of Molson in tow.

"Sammy, I will _never_ ask 'Why her?' again."

Sam's laughter rang throughout the bar.


End file.
